


Storm

by nondeducible



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Fluff, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nondeducible/pseuds/nondeducible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy, John and Sherlock’s daughter, is scared of thunderstorms. Her parents tell her a bedtime story to calm her down - a tale about a smart prince and a brave knight who fell in love and killed a dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rominatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rominatrix/gifts).



> fic commission for rominatrix who asked for parentlock fluff <3
> 
> thanks to ashleigh and soli for a quick beta, as always.

Sherlock sat in bed, reading glasses perched on his nose, reading a book about bee social structures. A storm raged outside, thick raindrops rattling against the windows and thunder vibrating through the walls. It felt bizarrely peaceful like this, even with the noise of a summer thunderstorm wreaking havoc outside, sitting dry and content in bed, safe in the knowledge it would all be over by morning.

Sherlock glanced at the empty spot beside him, and idly wondered how long it would take John to calm their daughter down, or whether he would be coming back to bed at all. Darcy was terrified of thunder and it took enormous effort to talk her down from the near panic she inevitably worked herself into. Quite often it took long enough for the storm to pass and she would fall into an exhausted sleep. Other times the storm was too powerful and too long, and her fear too great, and either John or Sherlock had to stay with her for the night.

Sherlock had once argued, weeks ago, that they could let Darcy sleep with them on nights like these, but John was adamant she had to learn to conquer her fear in her own bed. John had put his foot down, and Sherlock had sulked for a few hours. He got his revenge though, when a few days later he convinced Darcy the best way to wake up her dad was to jump on John’s back demanding he get up.

Sherlock went back to his book, and decided he would give John until the end of the chapter he was reading, and if he wasn’t back by then he would go to sleep. Middle age had definitely crept up on him—he needed far more regular sleep nowadays, especially with a toddler in the flat. And reading glasses. Although those could be used to elicit some very interesting reactions from John, unlike the need for undisturbed sleep.

Sherlock heard John’s heavy and tired steps on the stairs a few minutes later. He smiled to himself and kept reading.

Sherlock certainly didn’t expect John to enter their bedroom with a small bundle of blankets in his arms. A bundle which appeared to be sniffing and hiccoughing quietly.

“She’s sleeping with us tonight,” John said as he climbed into bed. Sherlock said nothing but raised his eyebrows and smirked in triumph. He put his book and glasses away, and settled down in bed.

Darcy wriggled out of her blanket and crawled under the covers. Sherlock gathered her to his chest and kissed her head.

“Hello, little bee,” he said softly. He caressed her hair and back, trying to soothe and calm her down, as she clung to him. 

Thunder struck somewhere in London, and Darcy trembled in Sherlock’s arms. He tucked her in closer, safe against his shoulder and chest, and covered her exposed ear with his large hand. Sherlock kept his mouth close to her head, dropping gentle kisses in her hair and humming quietly to drown out the noise of the storm.

John settled on the other side of Darcy, on his side, facing both of them. He shuffled in close so he could soothe her too, rubbing her back and sides.

They spent some time like this, the three of them under the covers and snuggled up close. The only light left in the room was Sherlock’s bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over them, helping dispel some of the fear and danger of thunder.

Slowly, the storm became less intense and violent, thunder rolling occasionally across the city in the distance, almost drowned out by the sound of heavy rain.

Darcy calmed down too, her sobs and hiccoughs stopping entirely. She was still curled up against Sherlock’s chest, bundled up under the covers so that only her mop of blonde curls was visible, and held Sherlock’s t-shirt in one small fist. John had his hand over her side and belly, and she clutched two of his fingers in her hand as if still scared he might let her go. She was breathing deeply and evenly, evidently on the edge of sleep.

“Daddy?” The lump under the covers stirred slightly and bright blue eyes peeked over the edge. “Can I have a story?”

Sherlock peered down at the little cherub face staring at him pleadingly. He has never been able to say no to her, from the moment he first saw her as a newborn baby just over three years ago. The love was instant, all consuming, and more than a little bit scary. From the moment Darcy opened her eyes and looked at him—even though logically he knew a newborn couldn’t really see properly—he knew he would move heaven and earth to keep her safe and happy.

“Do you want me to get one of your books?” Sherlock tapped her nose gently with his finger. She smiled up at him and scrunched up her nose.

“No. I want your story.” Darcy nodded to herself and rolled onto her back. She looked at John and tugged his fingers, still grasped in her small hand. “I want stories about dragons.”

John smiled at Darcy and then at Sherlock. Darcy’s latest obsession was dragons, all she wanted to talk and read about were the mythical creatures, and the theme also crept into her clothes. The pyjamas she was wearing had tiny, colourful dragons all over them.

“I think I know a story like that,” John said, pretending to ponder it deeply. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I know one about a really bad and evil dragon, and about a prince and a knight who fell in love, and then defeated him. Do you know that one, Sherlock?”

Sherlock felt the side of his mouth twitch in response. He dropped a quick kiss on Darcy’s forehead and then John’s hand—still held tightly to Darcy’s chest—and got comfortable. With Darcy bright eyes glued firmly to his face, he began the story.

“There was once a young, smart and handsome prince. He lived in a castle with his parents, the king and queen, and his older brother, the prince regent. His parents loved him very much and wanted to spend time with him, but the prince was young and rebellious, and always said no. The prince’s older brother was quite fat and arrogant and—”

“Ahem,” John cleared his throat and gave Sherlock a pointed look. 

“Daddy, don’t interrupt,” Darcy scolded John, her mouth turned down in a moue.

“Yes, John, don’t interrupt,” Sherlock said, clearly trying to hide his immense amusement. His mock annoyed glare looked identical to Darcy’s, and John chuckled at how much alike the two of them looked.

“Alright, alright.” John snuggled up to Darcy and gave her a kiss on the cheek in apology. Mollified, Darcy turned to Sherlock.

“As I was saying,” Sherlock continued, “the older brother wasn’t a very good brother at all. The prince argued and bickered with his brother constantly, no matter how much their parents tried to make them get along. The prince spent his time alone, away from everyone. He loved to learn from books but he also liked adventures, so he often went for walks in the nearby forest. But he always did it alone and it made him very sad.”

“Oh no,” Darcy whispered in a small voice.

“On the other side of the forest there lived a knight. The knight had recently come back from war, he had fought very bravely and was hurt badly in a battle. He couldn’t fight anymore and had to come back home. The knight was courageous, loyal, smart and strong—a true hero. But he didn’t think so himself, and after so many years at war he didn’t know how to live in a peaceful country. He was very alone and very sad too.”

Sherlock glanced at John, who had a slightly melancholy look on his face. Neither of them had mentioned the time before they met in a long while, certainly not to Darcy.

Sherlock hated seeing John sad, even slightly, so he propped himself up on one elbow and leaned across Darcy to give him a quick kiss. John looked startled for a second but recovered quickly, and tugged Sherlock back for a second kiss.

“No kissing!” Darcy kicked her feet up beneath the covers and fussed in mock annoyance.

It made John giggle and, having never missed an opportunity to kiss the laughter from John’s lips, Sherlock leaned over to kiss John again, both making sure to make extra loud kissing noises. Darcy made pretend disgusted noises and swatted at their faces but soon enough dissolved into giggles, after both John and Sherlock turned their noisy kisses on her. The smacks turned into John blowing raspberries on her neck while Sherlock tickled her belly and sides. All three of them dissolved into helpless laughter until they were breathless.

“No more! No more!” Darcy squealed as she tossed and turned, trying to dislodge her dads from making her laugh.

John and Sherlock finally relented. All three of them were a little bit breathless from laughing, the covers and pillows strewn around the bed.

“How did they meet?” Darcy asked John, once they straightened out the bedding and settled back down.

John put on a thoughtful face while he exaggeratedly scratched his chin again, ignoring Sherlock rolling his eyes.

“They both went for a walk in the forest. It was the beginning of a new year and the forest was covered in snow. The prince was collecting winter plants for his studies, and the knight was just walking, trying to find some peace for his thoughts,” John explained. “They met quite by chance. Or perhaps it was Fate, who knows.”

“What about the dragon?” Darcy’s eyes were round as saucers with excitement.

“We will get to the dragon soon enough.” Sherlock laughed and continued with the story. “They became close friends quickly, and soon after the prince insisted the knight come to live with him in the castle. He made the knight his personal guard so they could spend as much time together as possible. Everyone knew it was just a formality, that the two men were friends, but they were so happy the prince smiled and laughed again so they let it be.”

“What’s a formality?” Darcy piped up.

“A rule or ritual,” John explained.

Satisfied with the explanation, Darcy tugged on Sherlock’s t-shirt for him to continue.

“The prince and the knight went on adventures together, travelling to nearby villages and cities to help people. The prince was very smart and quick, and the knight was strong and brave - they made a brilliant team together. They solved murders, caught thieves, and made the kingdom a safer place to live. The people loved them and were always happy when they came to help.”

“So… the prince was like you,” Darcy pointed at Sherlock, “and the knight was like you.” Darcy pointed at John.

“A little bit, yeah,” John admitted. “They didn’t have a clever daughter like you to help though.”

“How clever?”

“The cleverest,” John chuckled, and Darcy beamed at the compliment.

“A lot cleverer than both of us put together,” Sherlock agreed gravely.

“Cleverer than the bad dragon?”

“The bad dragon wouldn’t stand a chance against you. You would outwit the dragon in less than a minute,” John assured her.

Darcy pondered this for a moment before turning her inquisitive gaze to John once more.

“What did the dragon look like?”

Both John and Sherlock fell silent at the question. How do you describe Moriarty to a toddler without scaring the wits out of her? How much of his true evil do you include? How do you simplify someone who had nearly cost them everything they held dear, including their lives? What started out as a made up fairy tale suddenly had the potential to become too serious too quickly. Sherlock shuddered to think about telling their daughter even a tenth of what Moriarty had been and what he had done.

Sherlock looked at John, seeing the same thoughts and questions running his mind, the same uncertainty evident on his face. 

A small tug on his t-shirt made Sherlock look back down at Darcy. Her little brows were furrowed with worry.

“Not good?” Her lower lip wobbled precariously. 

Sherlock’s chest tightened at the sight and he gathered her into her arms quickly.

“No, no, no,” he assured her, hugging her close. “Bee, that wasn’t bad, not at all. We just don’t want to scare you.”

John shuffled closer and embraced them both, kissing the top of Darcy’s head.

“Some dragons are scary even to adults,” John murmured into her hair. “Are you sure you want to hear the rest of the story?”

Darcy stayed silent for a few moments, considering the question. She looked up at Sherlock, seeking reassurance.

“Do they kill the bad dragon?”

“Yes, they do.” Sherlock gave her a small smile. “They live happily ever after.”

Darcy perked up at the mention of a happy ending. She wiggled out of Sherlock’s arms and settled on her back once again. She nodded to herself, a determined look on her face. Sherlock was struck, not for the first time, how much like John she looked. 

“It’s a love story,” Darcy stated. “The prince and the knight are in love, and they have adventures, and they kill a bad dragon, and save everyone.”

“Exactly.”

“Are they in love always?”

“Yes,” John answered, glancing over at Sherlock. John’s expression was soft and tender, and it made Sherlock’s chest ache to see it even after so many years. “The knight fell in love with the prince when they met. He thought the prince was beautiful, smart and funny. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was when the prince became his friend and asked him to live in the castle. The prince made him very happy.”

John reached over and ran his fingers through the hair at Sherlock’s temple. His fingers lingered, his thumb trailing down across Sherlock’s cheekbone to his lips. Sherlock’s gave John’s finger a quick peck.

“Aww,” Darcy cooed and giggled. She turned to Sherlock. “And the prince?”

“The prince fell in love at first sight too. He thought the knight was gorgeous, loyal, brave, strong and also smart. He was amazed the knight wanted to be his friend and spend time with him, and that he listened and cared about him.”

“And they were happy?”

“Very happy,” Sherlock replied. He watched Darcy take it all in and process it. She appeared to be making a decision about something.

“Then they kissed,” she finally stated.

Both John and Sherlock raised their eyebrows.

“Straight away?” John asked with mirth in his voice.

“Yes,” Darcy agreed, nodding firmly more to herself than anyone else. “The prince was smart so he knew and then the brave knight kissed him.”

“That’s very romantic,” Sherlock chuckled.

“A lot more efficient than us,” John agreed with a smile.

“Daddy didn’t kiss you straight away?” Darcy was genuinely puzzled. She looked between John and Sherlock, waiting for one of them to explain.

“No,” Sherlock admitted. “It took us a few years to realise we loved each other and kiss. And then get married and have you.”

“Why?”

Sherlock bit his lower lip. It was a complex question, the answer to it being too convoluted for a three year old to understand. Sherlock looked at John with a silent plea for help in navigating the issue.

“Because we aren’t as brave as the prince and the knight,” John answered, Darcy’s inquisitive gaze fixed on him. “We didn’t know we loved each other.”

“That’s silly,” Darcy huffed. “You didn’t ask?”

“We were—we were scared.” John huffed out a quiet laugh at Darcy’s disbelieving look. “I was scared Sherlock didn’t love me like I loved him. It was—well— terrifying. Your dad was everything to me. I was afraid I would lose him and I couldn’t risk it.”

Darcy shuffled closed to John and hugged him.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she said in a small voice, muffled by John’s t-shirt.

“It’s okay, little bee. We’re fine now,” John assured as he hugged her back.

Darcy pulled back and looked at Sherlock. “Were you scared too?”

“Very scared.” Sherlock nodded. “I loved your dad more than anyone else in the world but didn’t believe he could love me back. I did a lot of silly things because of that. We both did.”

They all fell silent. Darcy snuggled up against John, and yawned a few times. Minutes passed, her breathing growing even and slow, and she appeared to have finally tired herself out. Sherlock reached back to turn off his bedside lamp, encasing them in darkness.

“Daddy?” A tiny voice floated up from the bundle clinging to John’s front.

“Yes, love?”

“Is the bad dragon really gone?”

Darcy sounded scared and unsure. Sherlock shuffled closer to them both and embraced them.

“He is,” he murmured into Darcy’s hair and kissed the top of her head. “And if any more dragons appear, we will take care of them.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Darcy yawned again and stayed silent. A few minutes later her breathing evened out, her grasp on John’s t-shirt gradually loosening, until she was fast asleep.

Sherlock stayed awake, watching both her and John in the pale light coming through the curtains. He could see Darcy’s frizzy hair sticking out in all directions, the tip of her button nose, and her small fist still hanging onto John’s t-shirt. She looked tiny and fragile, like the smallest touch could break her. Sherlock’s chest tightened at the thought. He promised he would protect her, a vow he made to himself when he first held her, and the one he just made to her. The thought of failing to keep her safe plagued him—had plagued him for over three years. Could he keep that promise? What if the next threat, the next dragon, was too big even for them? What if— 

“Stop fretting.”

John’s soft voice snapped Sherlock out of his morose thoughts. John, who Sherlock thought had fallen asleep shortly after Darcy, was gazing at him with a fond look. Sherlock could just make out the slight smile playing on his lips.

“We’ll be fine.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because we always are,” John answered simply. He reached over and cupped Sherlock’s cheek. “The prince and the knight are in love, they have adventures, and they live happily ever after.”

Sherlock huffed out a quiet laugh, before turning his head and kissing the centre of John’s palm.

“Go to sleep, love.”

Sherlock hummed in response and closed his eyes. He listened to Darcy and John breathing softly, and let himself drift away, surrounded by his family. He dreamt of princes, knights, dragons and brave princesses.

Outside, the night sky was finally clear.

**Author's Note:**

> [come talk to me on tumblr](http://nondeducible.tumblr.com)


End file.
